A setback? The tale of Nero the guard dog
by Zeschi das Mondkalb
Summary: Hi folks! This is another story of Anna Schieber's "Collected evergreen tales". It's about Nero the guard dog who can win back a little bit of respect after his master bought a younger dog. Warning: mild racial predjudice. Let's just say this tale of Anna Schieber doesn't show Sinti and Roma in the best of lights.


author's notes: Hi folks! The following story is also part of the „Collected evergreen tales series" of Anna Schieber. I just do the translation work.

This is the tale of Nero the guard dog, who can win back a little bit of respect after his owner bought a new dog. It may be lengthy and sentimental to read… But that was just Anna Schieber's style. I won't change anything about that. If you don't like it, don't read it.

disclaimer: "Collected evergreen tales" was (or still is?) a registered trademark of Quell-Verlag Stuttgart (Germany)

Anna Schieber lived from 1867 to 1945. In her tales she treats topics of the "good ol' times" in south-western Germany, often with a rural and quite religious background.

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A setback? – the tale of Nero the guard dog

The morning sun was rising behind the forest and looked into the valley from beyond its green wall of fir trees. It looked as serene, lovely and warm as it had looked yesterday while setting. Yes now the sun hoped to find everything in the best order again, peaceful, happy and busy. Like it had left the scenery the day before… But not everything goes the way that the sun might like it to be.

Down in the lower valley, by the Nettle Brook the saw mill rattled merrily and always in tune. Farmers were ploughing the fields and the oxen and horses walked at a steady pace in front of the ploughs. At school the children sang while the teacher accompanied them on the fiddle and smoke rose straight from the Bear Inn to the clear blue sky. So far, so good… But next to the Bear Inn was the dog shelter and there, Nero was chained and yowled miserably enough to make a stone cry. And that kind of soured the beautiful spring morning.

But that was quite fine with Nero; he didn't mind if he was disturbing other people, quite the contrary! He wanted to howl as loud as he could. And he did just that. The old maid Ursel walked across the yard in her rattling clogs to feed the pigs. When she came back again, she paused for a moment and said: "You stupid guy! _Will _you shut up already, old yeller?" But Nero stretched his head back even further and brought about the highest, most lamenting sounds. Then Ursel went back indoors, dried her hands on her apron and sighed: "Just like people say: 'You're right but shut up nevertheless.'" But Nero didn't deal in proverbs. The world was a lost cause for him. Maybe now I should tell you, why.

It had been four years ago that the Bear's landlord had brought him here when he was still a young, strong, eager dog. It had been fine years, full of work but also full of joys. Nero and his master had gotten along splendidly. The Bear's landlord was an eager, industrious man always looking to make his possessions grow. He was much on the road with the cargo wagon, here with boards and logs for the saw mill, there with cobble stones for the road workers. And with the doggy cart, he liked to drive to the market in Freudenstadt. And Nero had always been his companion since, always bounding merrily along be it cold winter days or hot summer days. He had never made a mess of himself or the wagon; _that _he could claim for himself. He had guarded the wagon as his master was busy otherwise. Growling and barking he had kept other dogs, roving tradesmen, pupils and other suspicious specimens at a safe distance and he had always been a truthful representative of the Bear's landlord.

He had understood his master and his master had understood _him _and they never missed not being able to talk the same language. Yes it had been good times and he just couldn't see why things could not carry on the way they were. At the Bear Inn, the kids grew up: like the organ pipes they followed in a row. There were six boys and then a baby girl in a basket pram. Nero knew them all and counted himself as family, so much that he only grumbled pleasantly when the three youngest boys crept into his dog shelter as though they were at home. "Suit yourselves, I'm doing the same at _your _place after all," he thought and so it was.

Yes he loved them all, the joyful, swift, motherly Bear's landlady and the granny too (who always had an eye on a toddler) and the maid-servant Ursel. It was well in his right that he loved his master the most. And trailing behind his master wherever he went was part of the job in Nero's opinion. And that was the most important aspect for him.

But now, all would be lost and gone down the drain. Now life was as sad as Nero would never have imagined it to become. Now he was chained and howling his misery to the clear, blue day and his master had harnessed the chestnut horse to the doggy cart and had departed with the new dog. Yup with the new dog!

It had arrived the day before yesterday the master had brought it along from Dornstetten. It was a young-blood, an unskilled dog through and through with a shaggy fur and bumbling, graceless movements. And because of that yearling he was put back and chained now! From afar one could still hear the silent squeaking of rolling wheels; maybe it was still the doggy cart climbing the steep road to Igelsberg now. Nero jumped on his hut with chain a-rattling. There before him lay the white, shimmering country road in full sunlight and behind it the green forest – and he howled his laments across all this bliss. He was offended and wounded; his dog heart was aching.

His master had patted him and scratched him behind the ears while parting and he had said: "Nero, buddy look… Now be smart and give it a rest. You have to stay close to the house; there's no way around it. Look my wife has a bad foot and can't be everywhere at once. I can relax better on the road as long as I know that _you _have an eye on the household." But from all this speech, Nero had only understood that he was forbidden to follow his master into this wonderful day. And he had watched as Philax (the new dog) had jumped at his master barking merrily. He had felt like fired, put out of service. Now what would he want with the broth that Ursel had poured into his bowl? He despised the broth! The pigeons cooed on the roof and the pigs oinked in their stable. One could hear that they felt happy and that's easy for a pig.

The small boys came out of the house to play on the stairs and the granny pushed the pram with little Anne into the shade of the old walnut tree. The whole house breathed peace and happiness; it was by no stretch a bad life for those who could esteem it. But Nero only crept into his hut, closed his eyes and chose to pout.

Then one of the barroom windows opened. "Adam," the landlady called with her bright voice, "Adam unleash the dog and bring it inside to me. But _do _look out that it doesn't run away."

Adam was the eldest boy, a strapping, fair-haired, sun-tanned lad of nine years. He was coming back from school and now he put his satchel down on the stairs and walked towards the dog shelter with dignified steps. He had his mind set to not let the dog escape and stiffened his muscles well in advance to use all due force. But Nero didn't even dream about bolting off! Leaving? Where to? Follow his master and the new dog? Now that would be downright stupid… It would be no use at all. Yes, this morning he had raged and rattled his chain. But that was over now. "So come on now," Adam said and gave the dog a soft beat. "Get up lazy bones!" But then he felt pity. He pressed the dog's head to his chest, tugged at his ear in a companionable manner and said once again: "Come. You shall keep my mother company." And then they entered the house together.

In the great, bright barroom, the Bear's landlady sat by the window. She had a heap of torn children's clothes lying at her feet and over her patchwork she looked at the couple with lively eyes. A footstool was placed before her and on it rested her heavily bandaged foot. She had burnt it badly a short while ago; so it would take a long while before she could do chores the way she used to, the doctor had warned her. Actually she should be lying in bed. "But dear me, that won't do for the likes of us," she had declared and started to limp around the house. And now there she sat, did her women's work and was chained as well so to speak.

"There come to me, Nero old yeller," she said. "Do you really think that everything in life goes according to your will? Hah, you'd be the only one in the whole wide world! Sometimes you've got to accept fate. And then you know we need you at home. Shall Philax guard the house now that so many gypsies are in the region and I can't leave my spot? That young oaf who's still accepting bread from each and every patron in the barroom? Now that would be a sight for gods and men!" And while saying this she turned the lowered dog's head up and looked into its grim eyes. Nero didn't understand all of this speech. But he _felt _that she meant well. He uttered a soft, lamenting whimper; he would very much like to tell her how he felt.

"It's not the freedom or the wandering I miss the most," he whimpered. "That the master won't have me around, that he takes along Philax and treats my friendship like dirt along with my faithful dog heart – that's making the world sour for me."

Then he lay down at the Bear's landlady's feet and fell silent. She sure understood him better than he thought. When you have a mother's heart, a true warm one then, you also understand such a dog yowl. But now he had to learn by and by that the new order of things wasn't so bad after all – not like he imagined. Life did prove that and this is what happened…

There were still many ill hours. When the master came home at the end of day, Nero forgot all the slights, reared up and put his paws on master's shoulders. Then he trailed the master but so did Philax and made a show of it. You could never be really on your lonesome. Anyhow this Philax: Nero couldn't stand him! Now didn't he behave as if he'd been in the house right from the start? And didn't he bark brightly in the early morning hours as soon as the horses neighed in the stable? As if he wanted to say: "Now all right; rise and shine so we can go for a ride. I'm wide awake naturally." He had stolen that part from Nero. After a while, Nero was relieved when the master, the chestnut horses and Philax departed. He didn't cry after them any more. And even if he felt like rearing up at the windowsill and uttering a few laments when the doggy cart rolled through the valley too merrily… Then little Georgie came and lured him outside; then he remembered that he had become a house dog.

Yes and now his best days were coming. The best time comes when you are most useful and this time was due now. Nero didn't notice in the beginning but that's beside the point. It's no different with people. They only notice in hindsight.

But all this shall be told in due order.

The Bear's landlady hadn't cared for her foot the way she should have done. She had wanted to force herself but that had ended up badly and now she was truly bed-ridden, if only for a while. "And for me, that's a state I almost can't endure," she had told the doctor. She didn't even mean the pain she was suffering from. That pain was awful in its own right. "But I don't even want to think about it," she said. "When I see the kids and have to imagine how it's looking in the barroom right now or in the kitchen. And don't even get me started on the stable or the vegetable garden!" Yes now she knew too, what it was like being leashed when you wanted to skip about and make yourself useful. But now Nero stood his man. Of course he couldn't cook, patch clothes up or sweep the floors. If need be, Ursel and the granny could do that together and here and there, even the hunchback village seamstress came to aid. But he could represent the landlord and landlady. He patrolled the barroom with wagging tail in the evening when the guests dropped in; he knew all the locals and sniffed at all the strangers with a low, alert snarl. Until he was convinced that said strangers were harmless and not dangerous.

Yes and when two summer guests from the Residence rented the upper room with the blue wallpapers, he helped with the renting because he stood in the door broadly and proudly and even barked a few times. As if he wanted to say: "It may very well be that this house stands lonely against the forest fence but don't get any wrong ideas. I'm always at hand and provide for the necessary security." The strangers understood and trusted themselves to his care.

And thus passed a long stretch of the summer.

The meadows were harvested for hay. The scent of drying hay entered through every window and the merry sound of scythe-whetting could be heard near and far. The Bear's landlord was at work on his own meadows and his boys helped him as far as they had passed the toddler stage and, of course, Philax was right in the action with goofy jumps and merry, careless barking. Nero didn't hate him any longer. He felt totally indifferent towards Philax, wasn't much of a competition after all. He sure did have a lot to think about, not every house dog needed as much pondering as him.

Down there at the Nettle Brook, right in front of the sharp corner of the Igelsloh forest, there was a barren, blackened spot. Last year, a charcoal production site had been there. Now a light smoke rose into the air again down there. Dark figures flitted to and fro; a cauldron hung from a rack above the campfire. Something yellow shimmered among the last firs. There stood a rickety chuck wagon, home of the nomad tribe that camped here. A skinny, frail horse ate from the forest grass that grew around the scorched spot and from the meadow grass that the wives had collected in their aprons.

Nero lay across the stairs and sniffed the air with his nose. He smelled something suspicious on the wind, something that mingled with the sweet scent of fresh hay and the stink of the stately dung heap. And he decided to be on his guard. His tail softly thumped the floor and among squinting eyelids he looked after little Anne in her basket pram and after the three-year-old Fritz who slept his afternoon sleep on the stone stairs, head pressed to the handrail. Nero wouldn't let anything happen to them; of _that _he was sure and he wouldn't let anything happen to every person in the household. But then, even he succumbed to the drowsy warmth of the summer day. Only from afar he heard the lively sounds from the hay meadows; everything was silent around the house.

But then he woke with a start. If only all sleepers had such sharp, keen ears! Then certain pupils didn't need to be splashed with cold water after the third useless wake-up-call. But those pupils don't take it as their job to guard the house. He uttered a short bark and then he came at the arrivals like a constable. He walked towards them evenly, self-importantly and very dignified. Strange folk indeed came around the forest edge. Brown faces surrounded by uncombed, shiny hair, alien persons in clothes that seemed to be a wild collection from all of God's countries. There was a bare-footed woman who carried a small child in a multicoloured, torn cloth on her back: a brown boy and his dark skin peeping through countless holes. Then there was a young, strong fellow with flashing eyes and teeth who carried some heavy bundle and an old man who peered out from under bushy white eyebrows and said something to Nero in a foreign language.

It was a welcome diversion for the dog. He felt like a policeman who stood glued to his corner for hours on end, truthfully but without any leeway for real action and then a begging bachelor comes across him! He felt up to the task. He knew why he was standing on guard here. "What do you want?" he snarled quietly. "Where do you come from? You are quite unusual and you smell somewhat suspicious. But let's wait. Landlady, folks!" Here the growling grew in volume and ferocity. "There are strangers around. Granny, come out! I can't deal with this stuff on my own."

The granny appeared in the doorway. And the head of the Bear's landlady appeared at the barroom window. She was out of the bed again and if need be, she limped about a little. Then the strangers talked. It _did _sound weirdly and not only for the dog. They knew a little German but it was pidgin German, all right. But the Bear's landlady knew from experience what such guests wanted. It was only out of a mix of pity and fear that they gave handouts to the gipsies. There were always wild rumours of barns suddenly catching fire or stolen chicken, if there were was talk of gypsies in the region who hadn't been duly gifted.

As the Bear's landlady saw the slumbering baby on the back of the roving mother, she gave milk and old linen sheets and bread out of sheer pity. And when she saw the men with their flashing eyes, she gave tobacco and wagon-grease and a little bit of bacon out of secret fear. "But it felt as if my husband had been there in person." she'd say later. "Nero stood there with head held high and taught muscles; he didn't need to bark a thing and they got the message all the same." When the brown people had retired to their wood camp for today, the landlady gave the dog a light pat on his back. "You're a good guy," she said and nothing else. But Nero growled softly out of inner joy.

More roving "guests" came through the valley as it was. Some parted others came. Then it became public knowledge that young Philax still had no firm character, none at all. Of course, Nero already knew that. When Philax was at home he barked at the strangers angrily and furiously only to allow them to pet and praise him later on. "Well that's going to be a joy! That double-crossing…," Nero thought. He was secretly seething but he couldn't do more than that. And continual snarling and squabbling wouldn't help at all. Philax pranced and gallivanted around, ate the dainty bits that were dropped for him and then he journeyed again with the master, merrily and without an ounce of guilty conscience. He was a carefree skin, a real happy-go-lucky mutt and he didn't have a worry in the world. "But wait until enough is enough," old Ursel would say in such cases and this time, Nero would have been of the same opinion if he had known it.

It was on a Saturday evening, already in early autumn. Down there by the forest corner yet another "patchwork society" was camping and their scouts were moving from house to house and finally arrived at the Bear Inn. An old withered crone with a yellow scarf around the head and shaggy hair wanted to do fortune telling. And men with bagpipes and fiddles wanted to know if they could play music for tomorrow. The landlord was at home and Nero didn't need to interfere. He allowed the kids to tug at his fur and watched Ursel as she left the stable with the milk bucket. He also listened how one of the musicians, who stood apart from the others, talked to Philax in a soft, grovelling voice and patted his fur. "I'd snarl a fine thank-you," Nero growled. But he didn't have this opportunity because no one came to pat _his _fur.

And then, this Sunday came, followed by a night to remember that made Nero proud to be a real house dog. He should rightfully have received a medal for "stoutness and alertness" if he'd had a mind for the likes of medals. But this night bound him to the house once and for all, and when Philax was replaced at last, Nero would let said replacement journey on the carriage easily. "Because," Nero would think "I don't have time for this any longer; I need to be at my place here." Now would be a fine opportunity to wax a bit of wise words but everyone can come to his own conclusions – provided he or she isn't above seeking the moral of a dog's tale.

Nothing special happened during day time. Well that's not counting what happened to "poor" Philax. _He _made a sport of chasing a cat over the meadow. Thereby he ran a fine distance from the house and then it happened that a person rose from a dell and whistled just like the Bear's landlord used to whistle. It was that young musician from yesterday evening. He wasn't a complete stranger to Philax already, and Philax didn't know why he should _not _enjoy himself a bit, and even more so why he should reject the fat sausage end his new friend offered to him.

Yes and now Ursel was confirmed in saying that in the end careless attitude _always _fell into the pit that it had danced around for such a long time. Philax never returned to the Bear Inn and there's no telling as to what happened to him. Though the maid Ursel had a grisly suspicion (and talked about it!) when he was nowhere to be found: that the gypsies had butchered and eaten Philax!

The musicians came in the afternoon and acted as if nothing had happened and they blew and fiddled until deep into the night. The barroom was stuffed to the corners and in the hall on the upper floor there came the trampling of dancing village youngsters. All hands in the house were needed to help. Nero was an alert watchdog in this crowd and stepped down from his office for once. The master was present and all folks were merry. Well he showed his fangs once menacingly when the old gypsy who collected donations during the breaks scratched him behind the ears softly. But he didn't really mean any trouble; the old man had such a soothing voice. "Be a good dog and lay down," he said. Then Nero was silent and didn't make a fuss again.

And then evening came. Nero lay in front of his kennel. The fiddles and bagpipes still caressed the air in the house but out here it was silent and Nero wondered why Philax didn't show up. Then even the music stopped and the last guests left; it was past midnight when the Bear's landlord put the lights out. "I won't throw such a party again for quite some time," he said to his wife. "I don't want this helter-skelter in my house." And then soon even the bedroom fell silent.

Nero alone was awake even now. He lay and cocked his ears. A lot of things were shuffling and whispering; he couldn't quite be easy. A carriage drove down in the valley he thought he heard Philax barking. Something snapped in the barn, the night wind whispered softly in the trees and then soft, soft footsteps approached. The moon lit the area and under its light the old man sneaked nearer, the white-haired guy who had patted Nero in the afternoon. Nero jumped up and growled, menace and bafflement at the same time; his hair bristled, he was the responsible guard once again and he wasn't to be trifled with. "Soo, soo Nero," the gypsy said in a low voice. "Be quiet my dog. We already know each other. Be silent I won't harm you." This seemed odd to Nero. He wouldn't let strangers touch him on any other day. In past times yes when he was still moving around with the carriage but it had been a long time since. And this guy here had a way, soft and flattering. He had already proven that at noon. Nero had a weak moment; he let the old guy get close and allowed the hand to pet his back, lightly and softly. "So my dog and there you have a tasty tid-bit," the old guy said. "Now eat, now eat."

Then something snapped again somewhere; there was a strange noise on the lower floor in the direction of the larder. Something was definitely wrong here! "Quiet, quiet," said the old gypsy. "There take the sausage already."

But Nero snapped at his hand. And then he rose to full height and was house guard again all of a sudden, an officer so to say. Now what did that stranger want from him? Of course he wanted to bribe him! Did he take him for a miserable traitor?! "Woof, woof," he yelled at the old gypsy and then louder still; it rang through the night. "Make that dog shut up," a voice whispered from the larder room window. Yeah shut him up! But it didn't work this time. You might be able to cow other dogs but not Nero. Did they really think that he had learned nothing in his lifetime? That was _his _bloody Bear Inn with all its inhabitants, food-stocks and other stuff. "Shush, shush," the old guy tried again but then he had Nero's paws on his shoulders. It had been all so finely prepared. With Philax out of the picture; the couple of gypsies were so well hidden in the house and it would be easy to win Nero over. He was a peaceful dog and the old guy had claimed with a laugh: "I'll take care of him; will be a piece of cake."

They had only wanted to loot the larder a little bit. And a bit of coins if they had found _that, _wouldn't have been too bad. But their plans were going south.

"Bow-wow," cried the dog, loud enough to make the windowpanes rattle; and then the owners woke up, came down and took their part in the affair as it should be done.

A total account of this night could be read in the newspaper the other day and Adam sat down to read the article to Nero duly. But Nero turned his back on him and went outdoors. Now what did he want with all that fame! He already knew that he had stood his man, so to say and his master had told him as well. He didn't need to read from the newspaper that the Bear Inn and all its belongings were unharmed. "Yes," the old maid Ursel said when she portrayed this story: "The road may lead downhill from time to time. But for every valley; there's a mountain." But as I said before: Nero didn't deal in proverbs. Humans might deal with them; _he _had more important things to do.


End file.
